Dinner Date

Simone ordered first. "I'll try the lasagna." And ran her left hand through her beautiful hair. Her long and brown and beautiful hair. "With salad. With French. And a little more coffee."

She folded her menu. She gave it to the waiter. The waiter pivoted. "And what would you like sir."

Brian answered that he would like to have what the woman ordered.

"Simpler." A flicker of a smile on Simone's face. The waiter went away.

Brian gazed at Simone's jacket. He counted shiny darkness and counted shiny steel. This woman programmed ATM switches by day; she also went to dinner in studded leather. And her skin was like snow. Like a logo of innocence. And her eyebrows were poets. Incredibly incredible. In the eloquent terminology of a unenlightened era, Simone was a fox.

So Brian felt all of maybe... eleven years old. As nervous as a boy on his first cop-a-feel. He conspicuously looked over Simone's shoulder and quietly said, "There's a horsewhip behind you."

Simone spun, grinning. "Where?"

"On the wall. By the tube. To the left of the beer ad."

Still smiling, but now a wicked smile, Simone remarked, "If you get out of line later on, now I will know where it is."

"Exactly." Brian carefully avoided any lighthearted expression.

Simone was silent for a very long time.

Brian was silent for a long time too.

Simone spoke first. "So... you want to get whipped?"

"Certianly not. I am not one of those guys who gets off on pain. But... but I am - and please don't spread this around - I am one of those guys who gets off on obeying a woman. Sometimes. And seeing as how I would hate getting beaten... utterly despise it, I would just love submitting to your whip." And a smile.

Simone looked confused. "Your asking me to whip you?"

"Well no. Absolutely no. I am now caught in the submissive's paradox. I can't really tell you what to tell me to do." A pause. "Well I could, but it wouldn't work out. What I'm saying is, if you ask me if you can whip me, the answer will be 'yes'."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to have fun. I want you to do whatever. Eat lasagna. Eat desert. One of those strawberry doodads you were lusting over earlier. Your skinny enough and I won't tell. Afterwards, if you want to just say goodnight, we will. But, if you want to do something else, we certainly will. If you want to hold hands like a couple of virgins, we'll do that. I'd kinda like holding hands actually." Brian played with his coffee. "If you want to order me to do stuff, you can. And I'll obey you. I'd love that. If you want me to submit to blows from your whip, the only issue will be noise."

"So... "

"Saved by the food. Here it is."

They munched in silence.

"So," Simone said, casually lifting her fork, "Do I always have to tell you what to do?"

Brian swallowed. "No. I read in this magazine about guys who call themselves 'lifestyle submissives'." Brian swallowed again. "And these women who call themselves 'lifestyle dominants'. Its like they're always in character. Always 'on'. I'm not up to doin' that. How's the lasagna?"

"Its OK. No great shakes though." A pause. A decision pause. "Between when I say 'Om' and 'Konx', will you obey me?" Simone held her hand up. "Will you do anything and everything I tell you to do and only the things I have told you to do? I will allow a few exceptions. You can breath. Your heart can beat. You can circulate blood. I'm so generous. And you may get erect. But you may not come unless I authorize it. Also... also, will you submit to anything I do. Anything... anything... anything I do. I won't have to have a plausible reason. I won't have to have a reason at all." Another wicked smile. "Sound OK?"

"Under one condition."

"I'll give you one condition."

"I agree to obey you and submit to you completely during times selected by you, if you agree to stop being in charge if you're not having fun. Also if it hurts you, we stop"

"That's two conditions. But its a deal. Now shake." They shook hands.

"Eat fast", Simone whispered.

************************

They went to Simone's apartment. As they headed for the door, Simone made an announcement. "When my familus is on, he refers to me as 'Mistress'. And we have to be quiet."

"All right."

"Your're fifteen seconds from insubordination," she said with a nasty, friendly grin.

Brian followed Simone up the staircase. After she closed her apartment door she said, "Om". Brian froze.

Simone said, "Walk forward. Eyes down. Eyes down at all times. Unless I say otherwise. And hands at sides." Brian walked into the middle of the room and stared respectfully down at the floor. He held his hands at his sides. From in front of her man, Mistress spoke. "Kneel," she said.

Brian obeyed. Simone stood - loomed - over the man and thought, 'This is neat.' Her slave thought so too.

"Kiss the toe of my left shoe." Her slave obeyed. "Kiss it again. Over and over. Slowly. With care. With humility and care. Kiss 'til I issue a further command." Her slave obeyed.

"Lick the sides."

Her slave obeyed.

"Stop. Kneel up now. But keep your eyes down."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"You're welcome, slave. Now slave, think about my boot heels. Do you need to suck them?"

Twenty seconds passed. Her slave collected his thoughts. He lifted his head. He gazed into the beautiful eyes of his Mistress. The beautiful kind, soft eyes of his Mistress. He then said, "Your hoot heels bear the weight of you body as you walk from place to place to place and your body carries your soul. Your soul is a beautiful, sacred thing - a fantastically important thing. I need to suck your boots cause I adore your soul."

"Slave... bring two glasses of red wine here. The bottle is sitting on the kitchen table. The kitchen door is the door on the right. Glasses... in the top cabinet. Top, left of the sink. That's top, left of the sink. The opener is in the drawer by the stove. Go."

He went.

"Wait." He stopped. "If you can't find something, its confession time, not stoic time."

"Yes, Mistress I understand. I will do as you instruct."

"Go on." And Brian went.

Brian returned a few minutes later with couple of glasses of red wine. And the glasses were actually the correct glasses. Simone was sitting on the couch. She addressed her slave. "Put the wine on the table beside me. One of them is yours. Don't put your glass on the floor. If you spill on the carpet, I'll have to buy it. I mean, you will have to. OK. Good. Thank you. Kneel before me."

Simone rose. She walked gracefully away. By the bathroom door she paused and turned. "Finish your wine. Pretend the wine is my urine."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"You're welcome, slave."

When Simone returned, her slave was still kneeling, with head still bowed. But now his glass was empty. Simone asked, "Do you need the bathroom."

"Yes and no. I have to but I can't. I drank wine and imagined it to be instead warm juice from you. I cannot, in consequence, use the facilities."

Simone pursed her lips. "One way to put it." A pause. "I have the cure. Slave, do the dishes."

"Yes, Mistress."

Brian went into the kitchen. Sounds of therapy drifted through the door. Simone giggled.

When her slave finished the dishes - the two glasses, he found that now he could pee. His Mistress allowed him to visit the bathroom.

"But if you forget to put the seat down, its a thousand lashes with the cat of ninety tails."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

"You're welcome, slave. When you return, get back on your knees."

When the slave was kneeling in front of Mistress and Mistress said, "Now I will teach you to assume what we'll call the 'Presentation Position'. For now, just listen to what I'm saying. Don't do anything yet. But when I say 'go' you will do what I want."

"Yes, Mistress."

"You will lie in the position of a nineteen fifties mother-to-be who is about to be. In a sense we'll play 'Doctor', but this time with clothes on. You'll be the patient. You'll lie on your back. Then you'll lift your knees. Then you'll spread your legs. Go."

The man lay back and lifted his knees and parted his legs. He opened his legs as far as he could.

"Hold your feet, slave. Pull."

Simone placed her right leg between the man's legs and placed her right foot on her man's body. She said, "Do you now understand why we will call this 'the Presentation Position'?"

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you for letting me give you my body."

"You gave it at dinner." A pause. "I own you slave. You belong to me. Dreams and hopes... and heart and soul... and your lips and your balls are mine." She withdrew her foot. "You're just the custodian." Her voice grew tough. "And goddam it, you better treat my property right! Stand up. Konx." Her voice softened. "We both better get a few hours sleep." The woman and her man walked accross the room. Together and slowly. "So I guess I'll see you at work. So good night. Good night my dear."